What’s so “casual” about Longs Peak anyway?

I didn’t sleep well last night. I therefore have been tired all day long.  I didn’t have energy to go outside and run; I obviously couldn’t start studying due to the malaise and lethargy invading my bones and instead ‘had’ to read a book (The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls- it was excellent, you should read it).

This was of course my husband’s fault.  Once again.  He tells me that I have to quit blaming him for not sleeping and being tired.  But in this instance, I think my case has some merit.  As I mentioned in earlier post, I have forbidden him to die between the ages of 32 and 77.  Despite the fact that he is currently within the technical ‘allowable ages to die’ category, I should have maybe stressed that I was only joking and no- he is really not allowed to die.

Since I currently live in Flint, MI-  I really haven’t talked much about all the outdoorsy stuff I used to do in Colorado.  You know, like pooping in the woods, eating out of a old rusty pot found by the side of the trail, scary-I-think-I-might-die-situations, and in general- a whole lot of bad hygiene.  Being that my husband still lives in CO, he still gets to do all of that stuff.  So instead of going with him and making sure he doesn’t die, or at the very least working at the hospital where he’d be helicoptered to if he was hurt, I get to sit at home in Michigan, waiting for phone calls either from him or the morgue.

A view of 'The Diamond' on Longs Peak.

Yesterday, I knew he and a friend were planning to climb ‘The Diamond’-a vertical hunk of rock on the east face of Longs Peak (14,259ft) in Rocky Mountain National Park. So non-aptly named “The Casual Route”.  I don’t know about you, but when I hear ‘casual’, I have pictures of middle aged men wearing khakis to work on Fridays.  Now, I can climb up rocks. I’ve even climbed up some big ones.  I don’t (and by “don’t”, I really mean, lack the physical strength, agility, and ability to endure pain) climb up this shit.  At least not yet.  I’m thinking I might have a shot someday. Right after I manage to muster up the strength to do more than 18 pushups in a row.  Might be a while.

After spending the evening entertained by the new Twilight installation, Eclipse, I managed to fall asleep after texting him instructions to call me as soon as they got done, no matter what time it is.  I wasn’t exactly worried per se- but I was, shall we say, concerned. Concerned enough that I left my ringer on.  And I NEVER leave my ringer on when I sleep- I don’t care if you’re calling me to tell me the world is ending, my dog is dying, your house just burnt down, if it’s going to interrupt my sleep- I don’t want to hear about it. I woke up at 330am realizing there was still no phone call (from Justin or the morgue), and proceeded to toss and turn until he called about an hour later.  It was 230am in CO, so I knew whatever took them so long to get to a phone, meant something didn’t go as planned- but I only asked if he was ok, found out he was, and then promptly fell back asleep.

Turns out, only a little bit from the top (by the yellow horizontal line in the picture), his friend dislocated his shoulder.  Not good, people.  So they then had to do some crazy-weird rescue rappelling shit down the face of the mountain, with Justin doing almost everything since his friend only had one good arm.  Throw in a few snowstorms and zero visibility for a bit- it was quite the scary situation. Then, at the bottom they got to walk to the 7 miles back to the car- Justin, with both of the backpacks on.  I knew it must have been somewhat terrifying when I asked him if he was scared and he paused and then said, “yeah, it was scary.”  Those words coming out of the mouth of my most-un-emotional-unflappable husband are akin to me hysterically crying, curled up in the fetal position.  Granted, I’ve always been a little more dramatic.

The route they took up the rock to where they had to stop and rappel down.

The descent itself is actually quite a bit longer of a story which I am neither entitled nor qualified to tell, as it’s not my story.  It does show me that I am a little bit crazy because after hearing it and stating that I’m very glad that he’s still alive, all I could really say was,  “Hmm…I wouldn’t have known what to do in that situation- we’re going to have to practice or something.  It sort of sucks that I’m not there doing all of this stuff with you, because that would make for some really interesting blog posts.”

And just in case you’re wondering- No, he (nor I) are going to quit climbing.  I am not going to forbid him (like I could anyway) to do dangerous things, just like he’s not going to forbid me (like he could), to travel to all sorts of crazy countries by myself.  It works out well that way for us.

The other day, a CRNA at the hospital was asking how  often I got to see my husband, and I said at one point it was almost two months, but that was due to my Honduras and DC trips.  And she asks, “He lets you do all that traveling and is okay with it?”  A confused look overcame my face as I asked, “Lets me??? Uhh, he married into it- he knew what he was getting into.” Just as I did.

Glad you’re still alive buddy- Have fun climbing.  You’ve got until you’re 32.

Just kidding.

Source one

Source two

Tagged as: Climb, Colorado, Justin